


Empty Your Heart

by horse



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M, consensual kink/violence, seriously if you dont like knives and blood do not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horse/pseuds/horse
Summary: Merry Christmas to my fredhen friends, and especially to my best boy David





	Empty Your Heart

“I have an idea.”

“Who do I hex first?”

“Nobody.”

“Geez, whatta killjoy.”

Henry turned away to direct his attention to a raven at the sill, only glancing back to Frederick when the man cleared his throat, like he was frustrated but still endeared.

“I’ve just been thinking, there might be a constructive way to work through some of your… more difficult emotions.”

“Murder’s been working swell! No need to worry about me.” Long fingers moved gently, soothingly over soft black feathers. They knew just where to hit, just how much weight to apply. He heard Frederick approach, kept himself bent forward, elbow on the sill, back arched. “I mean, gee, out of the both of us, there’s no guessing who’s the uptight one.”

“Very funny.” Frederick mumbled, now self conscious about the fact that he’d been holding his hands behind his back. He let them fall to his sides, realised that just made him feel awkward, then crossed them at his chest. “I…”

How to ask? Suggest this? Frederick had no experience with this sort of thing. They’d been close before… it’d been a while now, actually - but he’d started to see that Henry was still shuttling back and forth between guarded and vaguely genuine. Glimpses of his true self had come through, but those glimpses were few and far between. It was hard to tell if the man was getting much more than superficial comforts out of their relationship. That wouldn’t do; naturally, Frederick had taken it upon himself to try and remedy that.

“You!” Henry swivelled around, ruffled his hair.

“Stop that,” Frederick said, hand reflexively coming up to grab at a slim wrist. Henry had an inch or two on him. Eternally frustrating. The mage squinted at him, lips curled into an infernal grin. “I want to try something different. Do you have time to spare?”

Henry’s eyes widened with curiousity, lips beginning to purse with thought, before his lids lowered again. “You’re always so weird about asking to fuck.”

“ _Must_ you be so _crass_...”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re funny!” Henry wrapped his long arms around broad shoulders, draping himself on Frederick like one of his dark, velvety capes. “What’s different? Is blood letting involved? Whips? Chains? I’ve been terrible, for your information.” He heard Frederick sigh in exasperation, rolled his eyes and let his head loll a bit. “Relax, I know the drill! I’ll behave.”

“Yes.” Came the mutter in hair as Henry craned his neck to watch his fingernails sink into the thin fabric of Frederick’s tunic.

“Huh?” He said absently, blinking, leaning back to look at Frederick properly. The word began to sink in. The implications. Henry’s mind was buzzing with curiosity and apprehension, trying to make sense of every thought that slid into periphery, made him dizzy.

“All that stuff. But-”

“But,” Henry said, in an oddly serious tone, fixed on Fredericks lips.. Or. Teeth. That was more likely.

“Not you. Me.”

There was a long pause. Henry felt Frederick shift slightly, probably to get a good look at him and his body language; Frederick relied on that a lot, seeing as Henry was pretty professional about keeping his expression _just_ right. The mage’s lips parted, and then the lower slipped in between teeth, turned pale under the pressure before he spoke again.

“You want me to bloodlet you?”

Something in Henry’s tone, something that should’ve been ominous, and caused a fair bit of unease, made Frederick’s skin feel hot.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

“What if I wanted to rip your arms and legs off?”

“Within reason.”

“What a shame!” It sounded almost loving. Frederick could pretend it was, could even allow himself half a smirk. He was about to comment, but Henry interrupted him. “I bet you’d let me do it if they’d grow back, though. Wouldn’t you?” The question was low, slipping out of a smiling mouth that was too close. Frederick could feel Henry pushing him back, slipping too easily into the role he’d offerred up - it made his heart beat that much faster. He told himself it’d be alright. Henry needed this.

“Depends how long it’d take for them to grow back.” Honestly, it was fun to humour Henry, but Frederick always found himself wondering if he was enabling something too dark, too unpredictable in him. The back of his knees hit the edge of Henry’s cot, and he allowed himself to sit, looking up at the Plegian, trying to keep himself relaxed. It was… important to convey that he wanted this, that he wasn’t doing it just because he thought Henry needed it. Though perhaps the idea of handing proverbial reigns over to someone was, simultaneously, the most ludicrously frightening and intoxicating notion he’d ever considered.

“Aren’t you just the most _romantic_ guy.” Henry didn’t crawl into his lap, didn’t sit. Instead, he just stood there for a moment before slowly lifting a foot. He let it drop onto Frederick’s crotch with the same hesitation, as if nervous to commit to letting go… or was it taking hold? 

Frederick swallowed, watched Henry’s expression take on a severe sort of quality that always came in these moments.

“We should come up with a tap out. How about ‘dismember’?”

“Maybe something else.”

“Fine, fine. Something less open to interpretation, I guess - like ‘trebuchet’?”

“That’s fine.” Anything but ‘dismember’, which sounded much more like a green light than a red one. Frederick swallowed again, feeling the flat underside of Henry’s shoe press, gauging how far to push the bigger man until he went back on his word. Henry didn’t always test people… he was quite content to leave them to their own devices, actually, only prodding at those who would ensnare themselves in the brambles of his company. There he was, foot already enticingly heavy on Frederick’s dick, which, he was only slightly ashamed to say, began it’s counteradvance.

Henry’s small smile split into something adorably devious. Frederick tried to remain stoic - so damned hard when he caught that twinkle in the mage’s eye. Harder still when the foot began to move, side to side, merciless.

“Heh, you’re one of a kind Frederick! And not just because I know you can take all the super cool stuff in my arsenal.” Another loving twist of Henry’s ankle pulled a throaty noise from the knight at his mercy. “Guess you can say I’m afflicted.”

“Do you mean smitten?”

“Semantics!” Henry finally let his foot slide away, and Frederick released a breath he’d been holding. There wasn’t much time to collect himself before Henry pushed him backwards rather forcefully. Once his back hit a soft surface, Henry hooked a finger into his shirt, antagionising the first button only slightly at first. Without a word, he tugged so hard that the small buttons simply flew away, as if by magic. Perhaps it had been Henry’s aid, as it always seemed to be.

“Hey!” Frederick exclaimed, only to be quieted by a slender hand, clamped over his mouth.

“You said whateeeeever I wanted.”

“ _Hmmhmm._ ”

“Nice try, but ‘trebuchet’ has three syllables. Wanna try that again?”

Frederick gave Henry a hard look over the hand, but said nothing, only sighing, trying to will away the tension. There was no reason to ruin a good shirt, but he supposed… he _supposed_ he could let it go, after all.

“Heehee, been wanting to do that for _so_ long.” Not that it had ever left his face, but Henry’s devious little smirk seemed even more potent. Frederick couldn’t understand it for the life of him - a nicely tailored garment was not the kind of sacrifice he’d expected to make today - but as long as it was what Henry wanted. The man never asked for all that much, anyway.

Henry slid a hand down from Frederick’s mouth to his bare chest; breath hitched and that warm barrel expanded at the shock of cold, quickly settling as skin warmed skin. The mage seemed pleased enough, fingers pressing down as if testing the give of Frederick’s abdomen.

“Freddy…”

Funny how even in his ‘amused’ tone, Henry could sound so distant. Frederick put a hand over the one still resting on the curves of his muscles.

“I can take it.”

“Haha, I know.” 

He inhaled sharply at the feeling of nails, suddenly - Gods, Henry kept them so long, he’d forgotten until -

“It’s kinda cute. You letting me play with your blood.” Nails dragged, and Frederick fought not to squirm. Through the effort, his teeth ground together, muscles tightening, much to Henry’s apparent delight. As the leaner man bent over him, Frederick was lost in Henry’s eyes, twinkling with a mad sort of fervor that was still, however stupid to admit it, not frightening so much as gratifying. They were barely open, but Frederick could still meet that piercing gaze, match it with his own. Henry’s face coloured, and the knight couldn’t fight back his smirk.

“Hey now-” Henry finally revealed the small knife in his hand - tiny, silvered thing - and Frederick felt the tip of it at his throat. “Don’t get too big for your britches. Figuratively, ‘cause it’s too late for you otherwise.” His little laugh. So proud of himself. Frederick tightened his jaw, inclined to oblige. Henry was right, as it were.

The knife stung, but it was… nothing, really, in the span of it all. Frederick had suffered so many injuries. Countless really, each perhaps more horrifying than the last. Lucky, they were, that the party was comprised of so much talent in the way of healing and precaution and protection, or they would be worse for the wear, and much fewer in number by now. Still, this pain was a fresh sort that Frederick had never tasted, tainted with things he could not place, though he knew they were tied to something light and apprehensive. Pleasure - varying kinds, in strange degrees.

Slowly, Henry dragged the small blade along Frederick’s side. The cut didn’t bleed very much… certainly not a glamorous ooze, but Henry was thoroughly transfixed - cheeks red, eyes glazed, teeth biting down on his lip again. Mad with concentration, intoxicated with the view. Frederick could only spectate, stilled by the fear of ruining Henry’s fun as much as causing an unfortunate mistake.

“Just look at that…” Henry cooed, fingers quick to dirty themselves, intruding upon the artificial wound - and _that_ stung worse. Frederick swallowed, eyes fluttering shut, but he didn’t make a single sound, content to leave Henry to his whims. “It’s beautiful. Against your skin like this, huh… so red. So warm. Too bad it’s not thicker… too bad it’s just a little dribble.”

The knife moved, blade flat against skin, slowly downwards. Frederick watched it glint at his hip bone, then the button of his trousers. Henry popped the button off easily enough. Frederick held back another exclamation, irate that his clothes were collateral damage, but full well knowing how much Henry cared. Besides, it felt more trivial now, undergaments doing little to defend his honour. It couldn’t be helped. Guilty though he was for feeling this way, Frederick was on pins and needles like never before, the sting at his side like a strange, sweet caress. In a different setting, pain did not equate to pleasure, but in these circumstances, even the threat of it was like a devious flick of the wrist… a lascivious bite. 

It made sense. Everyone saw him as untouchable, unfailing. Invulnerable. Everyone except for Henry, who was hungry for the holes in his chainmail, fixated to those points - aware. Always aware. There was a thrill to it… Henry knowing, but waiting to strike, waiting to be needed to lay that heavy reminder of mortality. Frederick licked his lips, and Henry’s eyes lingered on the picture of it before he sliced at Frederick’s solid thigh.

Blood came easier there, and Henry was, once more, enchanted. Frederick half expected the flighty giggle that always seemed to accompany the spurt from enemy arteries; Henry made a lower noise, like a grunt of frustration.

“Wow.” He whispered, voice taking on a quiver that Frederick felt in his body, and the mirror of it made his own cheeks hot. Henry’s eyes flickered to him again, while a white hand smeared red like paint. “Think it’s too much just to use this? Maybe next time…” He brought a wet finger to his lips, sucked like he was cleaning broth off of it, like Frederick had watched him do some time ago, before they were this close.

“Grossed out yet?” Perhaps Henry had meant it as a test, but Frederick only saw him stumble in confidence, hand hovering by his mouth in an anxious way, ready to hide. The knight raised himself on elbows, then fully, pulling Henry into a kiss which he had clearly not been expecting.

The taste of blood made him sick, but as soon as that jarring first taste passed, Frederick was at ease, sucking on Henry’s bottom lip to further prove his point.

“I understood the details of our spoken contract. Did you expect less of me?”

Henry lingered a fraction of a centimetre from Frederick’s mouth. Unwilling to face him completely, maybe. Frederick heard him swallow.

“Just not this much, I guess. Or…” His nose scrunched, lips twitching. “Well. Yeah. Haha…” There was no time for a chuckle, a rebuttal; Henry kissed him this time, pushing him back onto the cot. Frederick felt the wet spots at his waist and his thigh. The sting of a wound partially opening, if it could open, only having healed so much in the past handful of seconds. Henry let up to pull off his jumper, close to a sweat, but hesitated before leaning down again. He looked at the knife, at Frederick’s mouth.

“Couldja open up for me?” 

Frederick paused before parting his lips. The blade tapped gently against teeth.

“Knock knock…”

As soon as Frederick opened his mouth, Henry lit up, grinning comfortably. Frederick felt warmed metal on his tongue… pressure… his heart stopped, but the pain he expected never came. Instead, there was an overwhelming taste of blood again, dribbling like saliva, and he was forced to swallow uncomfortably once Henry (graciously) removed the weapon. Henry gave a nervous sounding, airy laugh, one that died behind his closed lips, before he opened his mouth and slid the blade in.

“HE-”

Too late. Red dribbled down the mage’s chin, diluted and thinned with spit, in much the same way it threatened to out of his. Henry moved fast, keen to stifle any complaints, quick to insert his tongue into Frederick’s mouth with little warning. 

The sting was less than it had been elsewhere, but the taste was tenfold at least, and Frederick guessed that’s what made Henry moan - unlike usual… unabashed. Bewitchingly honest. The sound made him feel feverish, hands moving by themselves to Henry’s slender frame, bare and cold. Frederick knew his warm hands would be appreciated, but the hum they begot was a lovely reassurance… the steely taste in his mouth became less and less of a distraction from the way Henry’s taught muscles moved and tensed. From the sound of his wavering voice - the little breaths of laughter when they broke apart here and there, turning heads or admiring the taste of blood or the other.

Frederick hadn’t put it past Henry to prepare him with his own blood, but it seemed he was in good hands after all. Henry was patient enough to mix it with oil so it wouldn’t dry unpleasantly. It smelled nice, at least, and Henry’s touch was enough to pull him away from his fresh wounds being fiddled with, despite… despite that strange sort of pleasure that came with it; an odd shock that manifested between his thighs, made him twitch, made Henry giggle softly.

“Turns out you’re kind of a weird guy, too, huh Freddy?” 

The taunt came on jittery wings, and that was enough to make Frederick smile through his guilt. _Seems so_ , he thought to himself, pulling Henry closer as the man worked him open, a reminder that he wasn’t exactly down and out. Henry gave an amused gasp, collapsing slightly into his neck, and bit down into tender flesh. It made Frederick’s hips jerk, Henry’s lower half in tow, and then it was quite clear that neither of them were interested in much beyond a final act.

Henry didn’t usually hold this position, but whenever he did he was… _Henry_ about it. Now, it seemed like he had new purpose; having neglected the knife, he reached for it again.

“How we doin’, buddy?”

“Delightful, you little imp.” Frederick rumbled. Henry laughed in turn.

“Who’s little!” He lined himself up, poking at Frederick tauntingly. “I remember the laaast time we did this, y-”

“Me and my backside both remember.”

“Haha! I bet.” Henry’s tongue darted out, sharp incisor peeking. Frustratingly cute. Frederick focused on it before he felt another aggravating push, then a biting poke at the left side of his ribs. A jolt from Frederick procured a bead of blood, prompting Henry to accidentally push in, thrown off, and then they were both groaning in harmony. On reflex, Frederick took hold of Henry’s wrist, but the grasp was fragile, not meant to stop him, exactly.

“Henry…” Frederick breathed, jaw tight again, trying not to grip the mage’s thin wrist too tightly, but also unable to pull away. Some part of him was anxious, not knowing what would happen next. Henry’s free hand slid down to graze the slice from earlier, still gleaming wetly, but not leaking very much if at all - the pads of his fingers caught dried blood, sticky, and burned in a quiet way.

“Th-there’s blood everywhere…” Of course there was. Not that Frederick thought Henry was making an honest observation… but it was funny to hear, he supposed. Henry moved his hips, and it felt sharp but _good_ , and then, something sharper slid clumsily along the curve of bone and brawn.

“Agh-” Shit. Frederick could feel himself squeezing Henry’s wrist, but, impressively, it did very little in the span of things. The other seemed content enough. Waiting for the safe word, perhaps, but it was lost in a swarm, far from lips.

“Fred…” The name was disembodied, floating above him. His eyes were closed. He opened them. Henry was staring at him, eyes half-lidded, hazy. His lips were red, blood smeared at a corner and across his cheek where he may have wiped it at some point, white hair messy and sticking to his face at the sides already. Had he always been this tall? This looming? Frederick ran a hand through his hair, the outrageous heat of his own body coming to him like a falling star - his awareness became fixated to points… chest, side, thigh, ass. The gleam of Henry’s flat stomach as he began to thrust, speckled with droplets of blood and oil… shining red where they met, where their thighs met. There was something about it.. He should be frightened but it ensnared him in frightful pleasure instead. Henry was dragging noises out of him, and it was so shameful, and yet… he couldn’t have cared less.

Henry stopped cutting him, let the knife fall to the floor, and bent over him to lick the blazing crimson lines he’d left on glistening skin. There were other marks, but they were old… different. Made by careless, unloving hands. Henry had carved devotion into Frederick, and lapped, now, at the ambrosia it wrought. The knight felt himself squirm. Stimulus was reaching overload for the pair of them at an indecent rate, turning them both into breathless, wreckless messes, compelled to chaos and damnation and other wildly delicious things. Frederick clung to Henry, and Henry clung to Frederick; first to his ass, and then slithering away to jerk him off, tongue still running the course of cuts. Frederick was completely caught off guard by himself, breath hitching awkwardly, body stiffening and shaking, rising, falling. He felt come on his stomach, felt Henry make swirling designs with what must have been that and blood on his shivering skin before he felt come inside him. Apparently, Henry, too, had been left to chase his pleasure in that primitive, thoughtless way - body cut off from brain.

They kissed, messy, initiated by Henry, but met with equal force by Frederick despite being utterly spent. Spent. Bloody. Burning. Light-headed. It was fine. Seeing Henry like that… hearing him like that had made it well worth it, without a doubt. His hand came to Henry’s cheek, pushing hair away before it settled, and he focused on the soft flutter of Henry’s lashes as they lowered. 

“We better have you patched up, huh?” He watched carefully, sobered by the act of Frederick bringing bloody knuckles to his reddened lips.

“This was nowhere near your worst.” Was the knight’s only remark. Of course he’d get up in a moment… it was important to tend to injury, no matter how small or trivial sounding. Perhaps a bath, then some bandaging - he doubted further assistance was needed for a few knicks.

“Haa… don’t say stuff you’ll absolutely regret!”

“Then I’ll just say I love you.”

Henry made a small sound, shying away slightly, hand slipping back to ownership.

“Yeah, something weird like that. But I guess you mean it, or you wouldn’t have let me defile you on several levels.”

With a tired laugh, Frederick pulled Henry close, then sighed against the skin of his neck. There was a pause. A small kiss at Frederick’s cheek as Henry pulled himself back up, then poked Frederick’s nose. “Love ya.”

 

Spoken softly, like the gentle tinkle of a tiny bell, surrounded by an inky darkness. A hand, reaching out, clasping his. Frederick smiled at him. _Love ya._

A small step. But Frederick didn’t fear the sight of that large staircase before them. Not in the slightest.


End file.
